


Scarred

by byrdBibliophyle



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-16 03:34:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7250335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byrdBibliophyle/pseuds/byrdBibliophyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She didn't know he still had the marks.</p><p>Written for DaveJade Week 2016</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

You have been looking forward to this trip for weeks now. Setting up a new civilization was hard work, and everyone had decided a break was necessary if everyone’s sanity was to stay intact. Summer was just rolling around, so a beach trip was decided.  
Shallow as it may be, you’re excited to see Dave shirtless. You think you have a right to it. He is your boyfriend, after all! In fact, it’s already been almost a month! Even if you had never seen him strife, just hugging him lets you know there is something to be seen. The thought leaves you tingling.

Rose, of course, knows an unnerving amount about what’s going on in your head. It was not so bad, though, once she got past teasing and helped you alchemize a new bikini! Perfecting the intricate embroidery on Rose’s bathing suit takes over twice as long as designing yours, but in the end the effort was more than worth it. Jane and Roxy join in on the fun too, and the four of you spend the rest of the day creating new swim suits, sunglasses, hats, and pool toys for the trip. The next day the four of you are the first to the beach, and you are absolutely bouncing with excitement.

One by one, the boys begin appearing on the transportilizer’s pad. When Dave finally appears, your blood runs cold. Scars, several dozen at the very least, litter his chest. One particular pattern is horrifyingly familiar. Bullet holes. Exit wounds. Your vision flashes red and white and you could swear you tasted blood. A wave of nausea rolls over you as you struggle not to cry.

All of this is apparently showing on your face, as when you finally tear your gaze away to look at his face, his eyebrows are poking up over the rim of his shades. “You alright, babe?”

You nod, pasting a bright smile onto your face. “Fine! It is probably just dehydration!”

“I’ll get some water,” John offers, but you grab his wrist before he can leave, shaking your head vigorously.

“No, that’s okay! I think it would be better if I went and laid down. Sorry guys!” You grin apologetically around the group and teleport away before anyone can object. The look on Rose’s face doesn’t escape you, however, and the pity you find there only makes you feel worse.

The tears start as soon as you are safe in your room. You collapse into bed, letting green static pull the curtains closed so you are encased in darkness. Blood is splattered on the back of your eyelids, soaked into your clothes, clogging your nostrils. You can still hear the muffled thump of his body hitting the ground. Curling into yourself you give in to your sobs, dimly hoping no one will come to check in on you.

Not even in your worst nightmares had you imagined your bullets had left scars. It’s literally a different body! It’s not fair. He’s left with the memories of your mistake. Your failure. Every day he wakes up and sees just how terribly you’re capable of messing up. You still can’t believe you killed him. You killed him and he still… How can he even stand the sight of you, much less date you?

And there were more. You had only gotten the briefest look, could only bear to see them for a split second, but the sight was already seared into your memory. A lattice of silvery lines underlay the spots left by your hand. You can’t even begin to imagine where the rest came from. Had he kept the marks from every timeline’s death? You struggle with the thought, mind whirling until, finally, sleep takes it all away.


	2. Chapter 2

You wake, with no recollection of having fallen asleep, to the sound of the door opening. Someone came to check on you after all. You lay still as the intruder approaches, hoping they will think you’re still asleep. From the noisy footsteps, you’re guessing this is either John or Jake. A hand presses against your forehead, perhaps searching for a fever.

A few seconds pass and the hand retreats, apparently satisfied that you’re fine. You listen as the footsteps recede into the hallway, sighing in relief when the door finally clicks shut. 

Now fully awake, the thoughts that had driven you to your room return, and you sit up with a groan. How are you going to face Dave later? You can’t just avoid him forever! You would ask him to wear a shirt, but then he would ask why and… You shake your head vigorously. That conversation will have to happen eventually, but you are going to put it off as long as possible. Rose’s face earlier is enough pity for this week, or month, or ever. 

Your stomach rumbles, reminding you that you slept through dinner. After a glance at the clock confirms that everyone should already be in bed, you quietly slip out of your room. On your way to the kitchen you notice a figure lying on the couch and freeze. Creeping closer, you realize it’s Dave. Soft snores escape his open mouth as he slumbers, unaware of your presence. The scene makes you smile. He looks so peaceful there. Your eyes drift down to his torso, and you flinch when you see he’s still shirtless.  
For a moment you’re frozen again, held in place by the accusations flung at you by the marks on his chest. Closing your eyes, you force yourself a step closer, then another, until your toe nudges the leg of the couch and you’re forced to open them again. The initial shock has worn off, but you can still feel an uncomfortable burning behind your eyes. 

Glancing up at Dave’s face, you reassure yourself that he’s still asleep. You bend down slowly, bracing yourself against the couch with one hand while the other holds your glasses against your face. Gently, you brush a feather-light kiss over the bullet wound closest to his belly button. You put every ounce of your pain and guilt into the action. He twitches at the contact, and you know he’s watching you, even though you can’t see past your curtain of hair.  
You move methodically up his chest, leaving kisses as light as butterfly wings on each of the marks you had left on him all those years ago. As he relaxes so do you, the weight of the blame you’d put on yourself slowly easing off of your shoulders. Once you run out of scars you sigh, pressing a final kiss to his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe into his neck. His arms circle around you, inviting you to snuggle closer. You wedge yourself between his body and the back of the couch, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. He strokes your hair, and you can’t help but smile at his tenderness.

“I never blamed you.” The words break something in you, and the tears that had been dripping silently onto his skin as you kissed him burst into sobs. You bury your face against his neck, mumbling apologies through your tears. He strokes your back patiently, and through your sobs you can hear him murmuring warm words of love and acceptance that only make you want to cry more. 

After what feels like an eternity your tears finally taper off. The ensuing silence is broken only by Dave’s soft voice, his encouragements now devolved into some metaphor you’re too tired to follow. You cut him off with a tender kiss.

“Thank you.” Without waiting for his response, you reclaim your position tucked against his shoulder with a content sigh. He nuzzles his nose into your hair, his breath tickling your ears as he speaks.

“I love you.” The words wrap you in a warm glow, and even though you’re not sure you’ve completely forgiven yourself yet, you know you’re well on your way.

“I love you too.”


End file.
